We Gambians have not been endowed with substantial material wealth in most of our history, our cultural identity which is a mosaic of varying subcultures has nonetheless endured in some form over the years with it's basic tenets surviving the hazards inherent in oral traditions. Families and communities have successfully held onto and passed aspects of our cultural anthropology that speaks to our very essence as a people. Often times these practices form the very basis of a community with birth, life and death all revolving around it. The adaptive nature of the practices also meant interaction within the cultural mosaic of the various ethnic groups is smooth and uneventful. That is why we increasingly share a greater national identity than a tribal one because a Mandinka who marries a Fula and settle's in an Aku town can claim no definitive tribal identity, because his part of the Gambian experience would be shaped by all three subcultures.If this Mandinka also maintains a second home in a Wollof village, then another spectrum is added to this wonderful mosaic. As a child of the afore stated example, I'd like to share my take on our culture as I experienced it growing up in Georgetown and Demfai 15miles northeast of the Island. My real reason is to remind list members of what I believe we have lost of our culture in these changing times. It is neither an attempt to turn back the clock to days that would never be back nor is it an indictment of us as a people. I just hope we can all take a while to look at a national trend that has the potential of shrouding our culture and ultimate identity leaving the next generation with something dangling between pseudo-modernity and a disappearing original culture. The Georgetown I grew up in was a pleasant midsize town that was to a large extent a reflection of our country as a whole. It was culturally diverse attracting a cross section of our people. As a center of government, commerce and agriculture, there was relative prosperity that augured well for the culture that undergirded the various communities. The Mandinka aspect of the culture revolved principally around the Kankurang. We love our Kankurang and fancy ourselves as cultural custodians of the legends of the Kankurang.We have different categories and types of Kankurangs complete with lines of people who can be "put out" as Kankurangs. Different events require different Kankurangs. We have the pure social Kankurangs that are for events such as weddings, welcoming ceremonies for visiting dignitaries, politicians, Christmas and other holidays. These tend to be part of a drumming assemble that also has a Sewruba component with the drummers alternating between the Kankurang and the women dancers who also also provide complimentary clapping and vocals for the songs. The second type of Kankurang is the one associated with the rituals of circumcision. Circumcision in the Georgetown I grew up in is a monumentally important rite of passage for all males. Held during summer holidays it is a huge community affair involving dozens of kids living in camps in town at night while spending the days in the bush. It usually last for four weeks during which the circumcised are ostensibly thought lessons of life using techniques that are less than savory. The kankurangs associated with this tend to be fierce and less social. Infact throughout the weeks that the circumcised are encamped, these solitary Kankurangs enforce a defacto curfew in the town forcing folks to literally run from the movie theater to their homes. They risk rough treatment from these self described exorcists who legend has it protects the circumcised from the machinations of witches. I later learned it was sometimes abused by individuals to settle personal scores. Somehow the relative harshness of the period of the circumcision is overtaken by the euphoria and great joy on the day they "come out" of the ritual encampment. All of the kids are paraded in their white gowns which by the end of their stay has become brown with dirt across town to a designated spot toward the end of the Island. There they are ceremonially and literally washed in the river accompanied by their designated chaperones and a special Kankurang and drumming. Once they are back in town, each child is then escorted to his parents house from which they have been absent for the duration of their encampment (one month). The Happy parents then hands over new cloths which is always a brightly colored Chaya and a a traditionally weaved shirt with a matching hat. There would also be an assortment of beads and tiny bells hung all over the boys body. Those who can often slaughter a sheep and cook a big meals for visiting family and friends. The climax of the days event is the evening dance of the circumcised held at a central location. All of the kids are escorted by chaperones and family members and once they reach the arena, the kids all congregate in the middle of the gathering. Each of the kids takes his turn for a ritual dance he has spent a lot of time in the camps learning. After a five minute dance, he bows down while family members race to him and shower with cash. The cash is the final reward to the designated chaperone who by traditions keeps it all. The festivities continue into the night with some of the chaperones taking the party to more adult abodes like the towns numerous watering holes. The Mansuwankas who form a significant minority bring a unique cultural dimension to our Georgetown experience. Originally from Guinea Bissau, they brought the Sikko genre of drumming and contributed immensely to the social fabric of the town. Being an original Aku town, strong Christian traditions remained part of the town's culture. We would make Fanals during Christmas and had Easter parties. The town's enduring liberal attitudes towards social drinking for example is partly a function of it's rich history of Christianity and non Muslim traditions. Our second home Demfai on the other hand was a conservative Wollof village with a Fula minority.Infact ours was the only Mandinka home in the whole village. It is a closeknit community where life generally revolved the family and the farm. Villagers got along exceedingly well and tended to community affairs effectively. Except for one instance , there was generally no intermarriage between the Fulas and the Wollofs with each marrying from their respective tribes from outlying villages. Interestingly enough the traditions of the two communities are essentially the same . They both get married early in life often late teens for the men and very early teens for the girls. It begins with a relative taking notice of a perspective girl and arranging for a suitor to pay an exploratory visit. The suitor would often take along a few friends, A cassette player and some attaya and money. He would then send word via an intermediary that he would like to schedule a 'chat'. If he gets preliminary approval he and his friends put on their bestclothes and set off. If the place isa short hike they will just walk but if the distance is long they would hook up a horse cart, dash to the place usually arriving in the early evening. The objectof the visit would have also informed her friends of the pending"chat' and they too would make arrangements to finish all their chores and be in their best. The very public get acquainted chat happens in the house of the girls mother with the guy and his crew on one side of the room and the girl and hers on the other. The guys friends do their best to break the ice by cranking up the music and horsing around with the girls freinds. The girl and her suitor tend to act dignified and reserved each trying to size up the other and attempting leave a great impression. This is understandable because a lot rides on these crucial first hours. Cool is the operative word. I have seen perspective suitors start smoking on these first public dates thinking that was somehow impressive. At the end of the evening, the suitor surreptitiously slips some money under the girls pillow and disappear into the night with his friends.If enough of an impression is left, word quickly gets back to the suitor and then begins years long courtship culminating in a huge weedings often the most expensive undertaking for a man . Sadly though not enough support is rendered to the girl once she is in the man's home. A few years down the road he will pursue another one and then another. That is why at about age 50 most of the women are tired old grandmothers with little or no property. The periodic area wrestling matches are a much anticipated cultural event. Like the circumcisions in Georgetown, they are a literal rite of passage for young adults in that general area. Surrounding villages are generally notified by word of mouth and the selected days tended to fall on full moon nights. The villagers would gather firewood to add to the illumination of the bright moon. Some of the spectators arrived early in the village but most of the delegations from the "Tundu" (vernacular for outlying villages) would arrive as a grouping. Each of them try to make a triumphant and distinct mode of entry. They all had their star wrestlers who engendered much admiration and would often have dedicated songs cut out for them. You could hear them singing in piercing baritones as they approach the main venue at the center of the village. Each village stakes a position from the makeshift arena and the drumming crew would cater to all of them as they get ready. They would dance and taunt the other wrestlers and soon the duels would begin. Each team has wrestlers, dancers, handlers who often carried the charms and chanted praises of their contestants. It would go on up to the wee hours of the morning. Occasionally tempers would flare and a few fist fights ensue but it was generally a fun filled evening. I recount all of this with a tremendous sense of nostalgia. I consider myself very lucky to have grown up in such a great cultural bonanza. In their totality they helped shape me into whatever I am today. I view culture not as a single seminal aspect, but an amalgamation spanning a specific period at a specific place. They best way to preserve culture is through successfully living it and handing it down to the next generation. Today our people are too hungry, too tired, too poor and ultimately uninterested in the preservation of our culture. People don't wrestle in Demfai anymore. Georgetown is shell of a town with very dim prospects for it's survival as a town. It is really sad. Karamba <<//\\>>//\\<<//\\>>//\\<<//\\>>//\\<<//\\>>//\\<<//\\>> To view archives of postings, go to the Gambia-L Web interface at: http://maelstrom.stjohns.edu/archives/gambia-l.html To contact the List Management, please send an e-mail to: [log in to unmask] <<//\\>>//\\<<//\\>>//\\<<//\\>>//\\<<//\\>>//\\<<//\\>>